Curiouser and Curiouser

{This is in a response to a challenge from Mike Jackson on Tuesday Scribes, to write a six-sentence story, in which one of the sentences includes a question. This reminds me of my mother, who liked to use the word “curious,” had a great spirit of adventure, and was extremely imaginative. I hope she has forgiven our teasing her so mercilessly, for using such an anachronistic word.}

Alice’s next trip was more urban than the last; less fantastical, perhaps, but not a bit less curious.

She entered Wonderland London, but this time, not down a rabbit hole, nor through a looking glass, but instead, by crawling into the case of the grandfather’s clock in the hallway, during a game of hide-and-seek with her governess, Louisa.

Before she knew it, she was seated on the minute hand, on the face of Big Ben, looking down.

Whether her size had changed, she could not say, but all the people gathered below, pointing at her, looked like tiny miniatures.

An enormous bird flew toward her and perched on the hour hand, covering the Roman Numeral Eleven, which, of course, Alice knew, having had it drilled into her, during a rather boring recent lesson with Louisa.

How attentive Alice would be now, if Louisa, whose buxom body seemed to be the storehouse of all knowledge, could tell her, in this rather precarious moment: “Does that particular species of bird carry small girls?”